How Tony saved Christmas
by OptimisticNihilist
Summary: Tony gets brought back to life after the shooting and deals snow with Jolly Old St. Nick.
1. Picking Up The Body

_November 1983, The North Pole_

The snow epidemic in the North Pole was finally reaching full circle, enough elves had died from the lack of snow during the winter, and it was all thanks to the aerosol-consuming populace of Miami, Florida. The elves, who were sensitive to heat, were met with the extreme conditions of global warming on the winter of 1983, causing them great bodily harm, rendering them unable to ship off toys to potential users (Children) around the globe. T'was a bad time for the North Pole, especially for Santa Claus, whose present-shipping syndicate had been badly hit by this global warming situation, their profits the lowest since time began.

However, Santa did not give up.

He needed snow for his elves to keep the business running.

Words came around that Tony "Caracicatriz" Montana, the king of coke of Miami, had just been assassinated by the Bolivians. Santa saw this as an opportunity, and wanted his body to be claimed back from the mansion for where he was brutally slain in, by a shotgun blast to the back. Santa needed his expertise in the snow, for his business shall not perish before Christmas.

He needed to bring him back to life.

 _Tony's Mansion, Miami_

"This looks like the body. Jesus, he looks fucked up!" Cried Sven, whose initially-clean and fancy pastel suit had just got stained messily by Tony's blood, dragging the drug lord's limp body out of the fountain along with fellow elf and amigo Christian, who simply looked at Tony's blood-covered suit, adjusting his shades accordingly.

"Hey! It's blood in, blood out if you deal in yayo, thought you shoulda known that by now!" Replied the taller elf in the dark blue Hawaiian shirt. "He's a dangerous man, ahdunno what the fuck was Santa thinkin', all this trouble so that we can send gifts to fucking kids."

"'Ey c'mon, Chris. Y'know we're facing troubled times, we do what we gotta do." Replied Sven calmly, before dropping the body on the floor and punching his amigo right in the face, causing him to stumble a bit. "So shut the fuck up AND HELP ME WITH THE BODY! _Jesus_!"

"Alright, alright, relax asshole, I'll lend a hand!"

Carrying Tony's body towards the driveway, the two elves dump the dead man into the trunk of the '83 Crown Victoria. Walking to the sides of the car, the two elves got into the car, panting heavily from the rotting smell of Tony's body. Twisting the ignition, the car began to flash its headlights in the cold Miami night, driving away to their meeting place, the La Bamba Club in Ocean Drive at South Beach. That was where Santa was going to meet them both, and Tony, and it was also a place for them to get that well-earned dose of alcohol.

"Miami PD must be on their way now, you sure the trunk's clean?" Inquired Sven, turning the steering wheel into an alleyway, scaring the hobos away.

"Oh shit…"

"What 'oh shit', don't tell me you fucked up something as simple as closing a trunk!" Shouted the pastel suit elf.

"No, I mean. I might have dropped my pen inna drug dealer's body!"

Sven gave a long sigh.

"Fuck that, leave it in 'nere. You can take it out later!"

"No, I mean, Jeanna seriously likes that pen, y'know? An' this is pretty much the only time I get to come to America!"

The Crown Victoria stopped suddenly, with Sven brashly pushing Christian by the shoulder.

"Go! An' make it quick, cops'll be here any minute!"

Shuffling over to the back of the car, Christian pegged his nose with his fingers and pulled open the trunk. Rummaging quickly through Tony's body, Christian finally felt something thin inside Tony's shirt pocket. Pulling the pen out, the elf suddenly felt the sensation of red, white and blue lights coming closer behind him. Running for the back seat, Christian jumped in frantically, as Sven drove away, trying to shake the pigs. Driving through several alleyways, the Crown Victoria came to a rest inside a derelict car park. Hearing no more sirens in the vicinity, the car was finally on the clear.

"Guess we lost 'em." Grinned Christian.

"'Lost 'em'? For god's sake, Chris, are you trying to get us killed?!" Shouted Sven, throwing behind a glass dome stuck in front of the car. "They might have taken down the license plate by now!"

"'Ey relax Sven, we're almost there! See that sign there? We're already at Ocean Drive!" Said Christian, peering out of the window into the neon-filled landscape outside.

 _La Bamba Club, 456 Ocean Drive, Miami_

Stopping in the car park of the La Bamba Club and getting out of the sedan, Sven turned around and gave Christian yet another jab across the face, causing him to collapse on the ground.

"Fuck you, Christian, you no-good piece of shit." Said the assailant. "I dunno why Santa even bothers keepin' around a small-time dumb chump like you!"

"Asshole…" The taller elf grabbed hold of Sven's left hand, pulling himself up. "I can't see how you can even bring joy to kids, with you actin' like that."

"I just pack the goods, Chris. An' I'm not even married." Rebutted Sven, pressing against Christian's shirt. "I could give a fuck about those little bastards."

Dragging Tony's body upstairs to the private floor, the two elves were met with the sight of Santa Claus, dressed in a red pastel suit and his signature fluffy cap, who was enjoying a nice Italian dinner. Two Martinis were placed in front of two vacant seats, of which both elves immediately took up.

"Ah, my elves. I see you have brought along Tony Montana." Bellowed Santa heartily, taking a spoonful of sauce-covered Ravioli. "Just give me some time here, and he will be up and running in no time! Enjoy your drinks, boys, oh and, Christian?"

"Y..yeah boss?" Said the Hawaiian shirt elf, sipping the Martini and eating the cherry on top.

"Quite stupid of you to just run to the trunk of the car in the midst of a police chase." Replied Santa sternly, getting grins from Sven.

"Can't help it, boss." Said Christian, finishing the Martini quickly. "The missus wants a gift from America, an' I can't just turn that down."

"And where is that gift?"

Christian made a quick check on his pockets, and he was at a loss of words. The pen was nowhere to be found. Shaking and sweating profusely, he was afraid of what Santa might to next due to his lies, he didn't want to end up on his naughty list, for it is a fate worse than death.

Receiving a thought, Santa smiled.

"Aahh… I remember!" Said Santa jubilantly. "Jeanna wants a limited edition Gucci fountain pen, am I right?"

"T-that's right, Santa…" Said Christian, turning his head down.

"Consider that a gift from me, Christian." Replied Santa. "For your work today. You'll get it on Christmas Day."

Relieved, Christian simply returned a smile.

"Thanks boss." The elf said, drinking his second shot of Martini.

"Anyway, now that it's all said an' done." Sven changed the subject. "How are you gonna revive his body?"

Santa Claus stood up, pointing at a Blade Runner-esque machine resting on the side of a room. It was a large tube, with several flashing lights and green text flooding the black screens, with neon filters placed around it for stylistic effect.

"Introducing the Revive-o-meter 3000!" Declared Santa proudly. "Albert Einstein always wanted one of these for Christmas… Too bad that winds were bad that year, who knows what he might have done with it."

The two elves gazed at the machine with awe, with Sven finally remembering something.

"Hey boss, if you don't mind me askin'." Said the shorter elf. "I don't think Tony's gonna take it lightly when you bring 'im back to life. I mean, he's fuckin' crazy! An' his best friends are dead an' his sister's dead an'-"

"I can give him Alejandro Sosa." Interrupted Santa.

"Alejandro who?" Questioned Sven, raising an eyebrow.

"The Bolivian fuck who ended his life." Replied Santa, smiling a bit. "He's been on my naughty list for years, and you know I absolutely abhor those children who stay in my naughty list."

Sven and Christian drank up their Martinis, out of fear.

"In exchange for Tony's expertise in the… snow business, I give him the coordinates for Sosa, and we should be even."

"You're the boss, boss." Said Christian.

"I think that's it for today, my elves." Said Santa calmly, finishing up his Ravioli. "Both of you need some rest, get up tomorrow for more news, alright? Good night."

With that, the two elves quickly raised from their seats, returning to their quarters upstairs without saying a word to each other.

Santa looked over at Tony's corpse on the ground, wiping the Ravioli sauce off his mouth with a napkin.

"Time for you to get back in business, Montana."


	2. Appaloosa

_Bolivia, 1983_

" _Jefe_ , we got news back from the boys up in Miami. Montana is dead." Said Nacho, the cartel enforcer smiling while circling around the rims of his MP5.

"So whatchu gonna do now?"

Alejandro Sosa, upon hearing the news, began nodding his head and did a half-smile, half-frown indicating a gesture of sarcasm mixed with approval. The drug lord took a nearby bottle of rum and poured two glasses filled with the brown liquor, before tilting his palm foward like a traffic conductor at the chair in front of him.

"You should sit down, Ignacio."

"... _Si."_

The enforcer did what he was told, while Sosa turned his chair towards the gigantic window to face an infinite mass of endless yet picturesque Bolivian rainforest and mountains. Nacho placed his machine gun on the side of the chair and inspected the finely designed glass, and raised it.

The drug lord, taking notice of the faint reflection on the glass, did the same.

" _Salud_."

The drug lord took a sip of rum, and the enforcer followed suit.

"Sure, Antonio Montana is dead. That is definitely a good thing, one less thorn on our side and one less liability for the organisation as a whole."

Sosa squinted his eyes as he could roughly make out a coke lab not far from his view.

"But the ambassador still made his speech about the narcotics trade regardless, and now it has gone national. Because of this, the DEA and the FBI are all over my organisation, and we are now treading on shit's creek in Miami without a paddle, and as disappointing as it sounds, we may never find that paddle, Ignacio."

The enforcer shook his head in agreement.

"So what do you suggest we do?"

"...Because we are facing a growing amount of scrutiny on our operations, I propose a temporary solution. I'll make some calls to politicians, law enforcement to try and fan the flames of our situation in the U.S.. Meanwhile, you head down to Miami, and I want you to exterminate every single last Montana-associated drug and transport operations still standing and making money, while establishing more discreet ones in their place. This might not be a permanent solution to our problems, but it will at least keep our heads above water."

"Consider it done, _jefe_."

As the enforcer prepared to stand the drug lord still had more to say.

"And also, Ignacio."

"Yes boss?"

"You know, as one of the longest-serving members of my organisation please do not think that I do not appreciate the great lengths and efforts that you have made to keep my operation strong. For this I will reward you greatly in money and safety and, in the event of a crackdown, immunity from the law."

"I know."

"But, speaking as a friend, Ignacio, I request an optional favor, that you can choose to decline."

The enforcer sat down again.

"Please do."

"Do you celebrate Christmas, Ignacio?"

"No."

"Well, you should. Festive celebrations are what keeps us optimistic in the face of the reality of our line of work. Christmas is a time where we enjoy food, the company of family and friends and receive gifts that we desire very much."

"Yeah, I heard. So, just out of curiosity, _jefe_ , what did you always want for Christmas?"

Sosa began to smile.

"I was just about to get to that. Are you familiar with John Wayne?"

"Big American cowboy, goes around righting the world's wrongs, and killing criminals."

"And you know what he rides?"

"No."

"An American Standardbred stallion, one of the finest appaloosas to ever roam the plains of the Americas, mane as dark as the velvet night skies during a pampas breeze. Ever since I was a child, I have always desired to own such a horse, I would constantly write to Santa Claus, if you are familiar with him, begging him to send me such a grand equine. Although... In this day and age, they are of a rarity."

"I'll try and find that horse for you and mail it back, _jefe_."

"...I am grateful for that, my friend, and my apologies if I may seem demanding to you at this time. That said, I am confident in your ability to produce results."

"Not a problem, _jefe_."

"How about another drink, eh? To signify our friendship and trust."

 _Gino's Nightclub, Ocean Drive, Miami, 1983_

Neon lights spread colorfully across the dancefloor, creating a kaleidoscope of hues as people, under the unholy influence of cocaine and alcohol, began dancing and cheering loudly. It was a dirty dream, America's decadent side came into full effect as people kissed, danced and did drugs to tunes by _Berlin, Club Nouveau, Frankie Goes To Hollywood_ among many others.

At this juncture, according to one of the clubbers, the tune that was playing concurrently was apparently " _Penthouse And Pavement"_ by _Heaven 17_ , following another song called _Blue Monday_ , not that the two elves in the club gave a shit.

"How long till Montana gets out of that fuckin' glass dome?" Yelled Sven over the music.

The lesser but taller of the two elves looked over cluelessly at the dancefloor, very confused as to what people were doing.

"Ahdunno, boss said by this Tuesday he should be able to talk!"

Sven changed the subject.

"Ohhh fuckin' hell, Chris. The girls here are beautiful!" Shouted the pastel suited elf, eyeing at a blonde dressed in a hi cut shirt which exposed her shoulders and a turquoise miniskirt, with way too much eyeshadow for her own good. "Why don't you go and talk to one of 'em? They'll like you or something!"

"But I'm married, Chris!"

"Fuck didja say?"

Christian walked closer to his partner, and much to Sven's surprise, he was wearing his aviators.

 _Dumb fuck_. Sven chuckled at the thought.

Soon Christian was right in front of the elf, and yelled louder than the music.

"I'm a married maaaaaan!" He yelled, as his partner closed his eyes and winced.

Laughing, Sven punched Christian in the face again, this time causing him to bump against a lady dressed in stewardess clothing who was serving shrimp cocktails. Getting shrimp all over her, the lady gave an ugly look and slapped the dim-witted elf across the face, much to Sven's amusement.

"Fuck was that about asshole?" Shouted Christian, bleeding from the nose wiping the cocktail off his shirt, before taking his aviators off and wiping them.

It was then Sven snatched them away.

"You're a real fuckin' idiot, Chris, ya know that? First you wear shades in a place shrouded in absolute darkness like this, and then you yell at my face!"

Driving his good arm back, the shorter elf catapulted the aviators into the crowd.

"SO FUCK YOU! _AND YER FUCKIN' SHADES!_ "

Upon seeing his 600 dollar pair of aviators fly in the air like that, Christian ran and went for his shades lost somewhere in the crowd.

At this instant Sven heard a voice behind him.

"Great job, little man. You sure sure did teach him a lesson on social skills that he'd never forget." Said the blonde, with a slight Southern drawl.

"You seen the whole thing, didya?" Smiled Sven.

"You bet." Smiled the blonde, touching Sven's face. "Otherwise, why would I be talking to you? Who was he?"

"Just a partner."

The _Midnight Mix_ of _Too Shy_ had just begun to play in the club, as the whole crowd began to slow down, Christian continued to search high and low for his pair, while Sven and the blonde danced.

"You know." The blonde reached closer. "I like assertiveness in a man."

Sven continued to smile.

"So what do you say, _partner_? how about we head there and do some lines?" Said the blonde, pointing her fingers at the male restroom.

Inside Sven could see several men snorting lines of cocaine along the marble with whatever they could find; bills, straws, even the occasional newspaper strip, while others simply passed out on the floors, mumbling incoherent babble about government conspiracies and drug deals of such.

The blonde dragged Sven in and locked the cubicle to themselves as he pushed the elf on the toilet seat.

"What's yer name, tough guy?"

"Sven."

"Youse from Sweden or some place up yonder? Never met a Nord who sounds like he's doing a bad De Niro impression."

"You sure you wanna hear it?"

"Surprise me."

"I'm from the North Pole. I work with Santa Claus." Said Sven firmly.

The blonde laughed.

"Now that's funny as hell."

"And wha' 'bout you? What's ya name?"

"Real name's Madeleine, but my friends call me Mini."

Sticking her hand inside her shirt, Mini pulled out a bag of white powder, hidden somewhere inside her bra and put it on the side. She leaned forward and kissed hard against Sven.

"We're gonna party all night, little man."

Just as soon as Mini began to undress both heard the front door slam open, and what sounded like several men walking in.

"All of you, get out." Said the man, possibly the ringleader, as Sven could hear dragging and shirts being pulled.

Thankfully, the cubicles did not have bottom gaps present in most bathroom doors so the two were never discovered. This did not stop Mini from getting scared shitless.

Inside, Sven could hear what seemed like two men pleading in what appeared to be Cuban Spanish, which got progressively more frantic as time passed.

Words like "Montana" and "coca" and "drogas" were oft-mentioned.

Sven slowly reached for his Beretta, while Mini held on to the elf, wide-eyed and afraid.

After some time the voices became louder, with " _¡Ayudame!_ " being the most prominent of them and Sven could hear the sound of a silenced firearm fire four times, following that of bodies dropping.

It was then two men spoke in English.

"They was working for Montana?" Said the first.

"We have plenty more to go. Sosa wants them all dead. So let's get to it. Come on! _Rapido!_ "

This was followed by the door slamming shut.

The two exited the cubicle, and the blonde ran out screaming her lungs out after seeing the bodies.

Sven walked out of the bathroom to see the club in a state of panic, while trying to look for his missing partner, looking around, he finally saw Christian with his half-broken aviators, who angrily pushed him back.

"Fuckin' asshole, look what you did to my glasses! Where you been?"

Sven, looking fearful, did not respond.

The tall elf slowly took notice, and asked another more relevant question.

"'What'sa matter, buddy?"

Sweating, Sven scratched the back of his head.

"...We got a problem."


End file.
